Page 60 of The Duke of Desire
Chapter Thirteen
West descended the stairs of the fashionable three-story town house in The Paragon. Hemphill had secured an excellent property for his use while he stayed in Bath. The furnishings were elegant and comfortable, if a tad fussy for his taste, and the staff was attentive and pleasant. With the exception of the cook, whom he’d met after breakfast that morning. With coarse white hair that stuck out from her cap at odd angles and large brown eyes that rarely blinked, her appearance was a bit wild, but certainly not intimidating. And then, in a deep, admonishing tone, she’d berated him for not finishing his kippers.
He’d explained that he was full and that it had been a delicious meal. She’d scolded him to do better next time.
The butler, a compact, efficient fellow called Biddle, had apologized profusely but said she was too talented to let go. West had understood, for they really were excellent kippers.
Biddle met West at the base of the stairs. “Are you going out, Your Grace?”
“Yes, can you tell me the location of the nearest workhouse?”
The butler stared at him a moment before blinking just once. He composed his features quickly, but not before West detected his surprise. “Ah, I believe the nearest would be Walcot on London Road. It’s a ten-minute walk, perhaps. Would you like me to send for the coach?”
West set his hat on his head. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll walk since it’s decided not to rain today.”
Biddle followed him to the door and opened it swiftly. “Do you have evening plans?”
“I believe there is an assembly, which I plan to attend. I shall dine before I leave.”
“Very good.”
West pulled on his gloves as he departed. He glanced up at the gray sky before trotting down the steps to the sidewalk. He turned right toward London Road.
Visiting the workhouse would be the first step toward finding Ivy. Bath wasn’t terribly large, and he was certain she’d find her way to the local workhouse. Step two would be attending the assembly tonight. The Bath Assembly Rooms hosted weekly parties that offered gambling and dancing. He felt certain that Lady Dunn would be there, given her penchant for cards. And wherever Lady Dunn went, her lovely companion was sure to be.
Feeling particularly optimistic, West strode onto London Road, nodding at people as he passed them. He came upon the workhouse and went to the entrance. Should he knock or just walk right in?
Shrugging, he tried the door. Finding it unlocked, he pushed his way inside. He immediately recognized that it wasn’t as tidy as the workhouse in Wendover. The entry hall was damp, and a quick perusal revealed a leak in the corner. The wall was stained from the moisture. There was also a fetid smell, and he wasn’t sure it was entirely due to the wet plaster from the disrepair.
He moved farther inside, to a wide doorway that led to a dim room where inmates picked oakum from ropes. The material would be employed in shipbuilding. A door to the outside stood ajar, and West could hear inmates breaking rocks, which would be used for roads. The workhouse in Wendover had sported a small yard for such endeavors, but West could already see that this facility was larger and more populated. It was also in need of more attention. The windows along the far wall were much too small to provide adequate light for the inmates’ tasks.
“May I help you?”
West turned toward the question. A small, nearly bald gentleman had walked up behind him. He looked at West with a mix of wariness and apprehension, his gaze furtive and uncertain. Despite his lack of hair, he seemed rather youthful to be running a workhouse. West thought he could even be a year or two younger than him.
Summoning a smile to put the man at ease, West removed his hat. “Good afternoon, I am the Duke of Clare.”
The man offered a stiff, hurried bow. “We are honored, Your Grace. I am Alves, the supervisor of this spike, er, workhouse.”
West had heard that slang a few times in Wendover, but still wasn’t sure what it meant. Perhaps if he’d paid just a little more attention on that tour instead of focusing on Ivy, he would know the meaning. “I’ve come in search of someone who might be offering some charitable assistance in the short term. Are you acquainted with a Miss Breckenridge?”
Alves relaxed, his features softening. “Indeed. She’s been a boon to us. Already, she’s made so many improvements to how we function every day.”
“Is that right?” West wasn’t the least bit surprised.
Alves nodded. “Yes, she’s organized our menu to allow for less preparation and cooking time, and she’s realigned some of the tasks so that our housekeepers can work more efficiently.”
Of course she had. “Will she be in today?”
“She already was. You missed her by perhaps an hour.”
Damn. But he couldn’t have come any earlier. He’d arrived late last night, exhausted. “When do you expect her to return?”
“Day after tomorrow. In the morning.”
Excellent. Now he knew precisely when he would see her again.
Alves squared his shoulders and notched up his chin. “May I inquire as to your intentions regarding Miss Breckenridge?” His lip trembled ever so slightly, but his gaze was clear and direct.
